And then he realized
despairingly that none of the armed men on his side could understand
him.

And no one, it seemed, had flint and steel to strike a light. He knew he
was carrying none. Such a simple thing, yet tonight its lack might be
his death.

His foot kicked something that rang against the stone floor. His sword.
He swooped down on it, seized it, and thrust blindly straight ahead. The
point struck a stone wall, and he felt the blade bend. He checked his
thrust just in time to keep the scimitar from breaking.

He heard a movement to his left and stabbed again. Again he struck blank
stone.

_The devil is somewhere in this part of the room._

"The door!" Simon shouted. "Mathieu, get the door open."

He heard the iron bolt shoved back, the creak of hinges, the scrape of a
body being pushed aside.

But the blackness remained absolute.

_He must have put out the candle in the cellar before he broke in here._

Simon heard running footsteps outside the spice pantry. Sandals slapping
up wooden stairs. The creaking of the trapdoor at the top of the cellar
steps. And then there was light. Gray, faint, but after what seemed like
hours spent in utter darkness, it was as if the sun had suddenly risen.

_God bless you, Mathieu._

Scimitar at the ready, Simon swept the room with his gaze.

A shadowy figure stood halfway along one of the side walls, holding
something out before him in both hands. A miniature crossbow, a
vicious-looking thing. Simon turned to see where it was pointed.

He saw John Chagan on the other side of the pantry facing the killer.

He heard a snap.

But Grigor, the Armenian who had been hurt outside the spice pantry, had
stepped between John and the crossbow, and he took the bolt in his
leather cuirass. Simon felt his mind moving much more slowly than things
were happening, trying to grasp it all.

Grigor's eyes opened wide. Perhaps, Simon thought, he had expected that
a bolt from such a little bow would merely bounce off his hardened
leather armor. Or perhaps he knew that it would kill him.

In the semidarkness Simon could not see the hole in the cuirass, but
Grigor's hand went to his chest, and then he toppled over.

The Tartar Philip had picked up a bow from the floor, and so had the
other Armenian. Both raised their weapons toward the man in black.

_Now we have him cornered and in a moment I will rip off his mask and
know who he is._

The stalker's black-gloved hand flashed up